The Lady Wore Yoga Pants
by MysticSpiritus
Summary: Two positive pregnancy tests. Two men who have no idea what they're doing. At least for their women, it's instinct and ginger ale. Except, Yuffie doesn't want the ginger ale, and the only ginger ale Tifa has is soaked in alcohol - which is now out of the question. The nine month countdown begins.
1. Chapter 1

_Mystic: Oh, hey! There's other uses for the laptop besides nursing school pre-reqs! Groovy! Seriously, my brain is overflowing with Anatomy/Physiology._

* * *

 **The Lady Wore Yoga Pants**

* * *

It was bad.

Really, really bad.

As in, 'if her father found out, he would strangle poor Reeve then spit on the grave' bad. Perhaps her mother (may the dear woman rest in peace) would return from the land of the dead just to put the ninja hurt on poor Reeve. (As if Yuffie got her kickass ninja skills from her father - heavens to Leviathan! NO.) Maybe it wasn't too late to rush out in the open air, open her eyes, and pretend several weeks ago in Costa del Sol didn't happen. Nope. All that grown-up behavior and being nipple-deep in jello shots with Reeve's beard didn't really happen.

And really, would it kill her to check the expiration dates on the condoms? Would it?

Yeah, because the next eighteen years of her life were about to be shot to shit. There were two little lines staring at her. Two scary little lines. Two scary little lines in her bathroom sink because she had been boinking around with the commissioner again - and forgot to check the condom date thanks to Leviathan-damned jello shots. Maybe it wasn't too late to blame Tifa. Stupid, creative, buxom bartender who played hide the beer bottle with Reno.

Yep, the apocalypse was upon all of Gaia.

Yuffie Kisaragi was all of knocked up.

And yet ...

Yet ...

Maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

She stepped away from the sink, walked out into the open air, and opened her eyes. A deep breath filled her lungs and a sense of well-trained calm filled what might be her soul. Yuffie once saved the world, so of course she had a soul, or conscious, or something philosophical like that. She didn't quite remember; community college was a long time ago. "Okay," she said to no one in particular. "I'll go down to headquarters, talk to Reeve, than talk to Doctor Luis. That's the adult thing to do."

Then the truly frightening thing hit her.

"No! I'll have to give up my lattes!"

* * *

*hurl* _*hyuck*_ *hurl*

Reno did not like what he heard outside of Tifa's bathroom door. The extent of onomatopoeia made his inner English major cry. (Very few people knew that about Reno. Everyone saw him as a cold-blooded killer and a bit of an asshat, but he majored in English with a minor in Literature at Kalm University. It didn't do much in the way of paying career which is why he went back for his assassinations certificate, but the redhead could write and analyze with the best of them.) "Uh, babe? You okay in there? I'm beginning to think I got you preggers."

Was that still a word? He wasn't sure and he also didn't care. Preggo? No, that was a pasta sauce.

On the other side of the bathroom door, the stupid, creative, buxom bartender lurched again. After a few silent moments, he heard the toilet flush. Slowly, to not awaken further the beast of nausea, he opened the door. Well, shit, Tifa looked like shit. Reno played the good boyfriend card and wiped her forehead with a damp washcloth.

Tifa finally said, "Did you know that antibiotics mess up birth control pills?"

His heart stopped. "Yes," he finally answered. "Why?" he asked, slowly.

"Maybe we should have used a back-up."

It was several moments before his heart started to beat again. He made a mental note to speak to Luis about it. Until then, "Okay, let's call the doctor to be sure, because oh, motherfuckin' damn!"

"No, call Harmony. I heard she's doing district nursing now."

"Your friends were right, babe," he said, sliding against the wall next to her. "I am literally a lousy motherfucker."

Tifa wanted to smack him, but her stomach wouldn't allow it. "Well, I wouldn't call you lousy."

The swear word was accurate though. She leaned down to rest on his shoulder, smiled.

* * *

How could she forget about her beloved lattes? The one thing in the morning that kept her from murdering people because they talked to her. The one thing that made that horrific yellow sphere in the sky less irritating. She'd have to give it up - temporarily, but give it up anyway. Yuffie had a such a passionate love affair with lattes it even made Reeve feel a tug in his soul. Conscious. Whatever. "Aw, man," she huffed. It was time to walk back inside and make a few phone calls. If reality television said anything, she'd call her baby-daddy first, then her doctor to figure out what to do.

Oh.

There was one other option ... and no one would have to know. There was _that_ clinic on the outskirts of Edge, perpetually in the shadows, where what they did was legal, but still on the hush-hush because people still followed the bare minimum of Bahamut's religion. She could go there, and her record would be sealed, and no one would be none the wiser. Yuffie sat down on her couch and thought about it. Really thought about it.

 _It_ was a choice, one of many. _It_ had its place, though gruesome and heart-wrenching, and she appreciated that the choice was there, but. But. But was that the right choice for her? Right now? With Reeve. Something gnawed at her, fear, but not guilt; she liked getting laid and she was hardly the first single woman to get knocked up. Tifa always said motherhood came instinctively, which explained her relationship with Denzel, but could Yuffie do as well with her own? Could she?

"Well, of course, I fucking can! I'm Yuffie Kisaragi! White Rose of Wutai, heir to the throne, and all-around awesome ninja spy! Who else could rock this thing called being a mom! I goddamn can!" She continued, standing on her feet in arrogant triumph. "I can make it look good! I can be cool! And I'll switch to decaf until I give birth!"

There was a cough at the door and a thud of a briefcase hitting the floor.

* * *

Reno said, "You know, it's good timing that you didn't take those antibiotics when we were at the key party." Monogamy bored him, and as for how he convinced Tifa to "branch out" was a mystery to everyone. "It'd be awkward if my spawn came out bald or with a dot on his forehead."

Tifa rolled her eyes. "You know I always use a back-up with play partners."

"Aw, you only go bareback with me?" He kissed her cheek. "I love you."

"You've been spoiling me ever since I gave you that threesome for your birthday."

"That's why you've won every argument since then."

"And what now?" she asked. "I'm giving you a kid."

Reno thought a moment. "I can cook."

Tifa snorted, but ruffled his hair all the same. Another redhead around here would be rather adorable. "Tell you what, sweetie, how about you pick up Denzel from school while I call and make an appointment."

"That I can do. I have a feeling we won't be making any cross-country trips for awhile."

He continued to refuse to spell country correctly. He often - and purposefully - left out the letter 'o'. The bartender smacked him on the rear, then went about wiping down the bartop.

* * *

Reeve Tuesti heavily stared at the two scary lines looking up at him from Yuffie's bathroom sink. At his age, he had begun to think it wouldn't ever happen. Calmly, with a resolve most appropriate for a WRO commissioner, he stated, "I believe I should ask for your hand in marriage, so your father will not order my assassination."

Yuffie Kisaragi plunked her behind on the edge of the bathtub. "Yeah, I was afraid of that."

"You don't want to marry me?"

She grimaced, almost to the point of nausea (something she surprisingly haven't felt). "No way! I like what we have and I don't want to change it up." The nausea hadn't happened. Yuffie, Princess of Wutai and Queen of Motion Sickness, did not feel sick to her stomach.

"What do we have?" he asked, arms crossed.

"Seriously? We get together, we hang out, we bang. We have fun. I don't want that to fuck up because I'm pregnant." Her hands idly grazed her stomach. "I'm pregnant," she said again.

His top spy and off-and-on lover had a point, though he hated to admit it. The pair did have a comfortable arrangement (despite her once sneaking a certain green plant into a pan of brownies and screwing with his reputation). He didn't want to see their _not_ relationship erode. "Alright," he stated. "I'll concede to you on the marriage point, but you still need to tell your father."

"Yeah, yeah," she sighed, pulling out her phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Texting him that you got me pregnant out of wedlock and I'm going to bear him a bastard grandchild."

"Yuffie!" He yanked the phone from her hands. "This deserves an actual phone call." Pause. "Or at least a handwritten letter delivered by the postal service." Strictly to buy him time and increase security. Yes, that's it.

She took her phone back with a huff. "Fine, but you owe me one. Leviathan only knows what this is going to do to my lady parts." With that, the matter was settled, but not before she heard him roll his eyes so loudly it could have knocked over bowling pins. "Hello? Father dear with whom I admire and respect?"

Reeve wanted to write 'SARCASM' on a sheet of paper and hold it over Yuffie's head whenever she opened her mouth. And especially when she talked to Lord Godo. He wanted to, but the mature leader inside him decided it would be against better judgment. Instead he looked back at the pregnancy test in the sink, and smiled. The little lines weren't so scary. Yet.

It was nine months. How bad could it get?

* * *

Inside his office a Solian physician scanned the following day's appointments. He paused at two of the names, looked again, then reached for his reading glasses. Upon the re-read, he erupted in boisterous laughter. His laughter was so strong, a nurse left her station and walked through the door. "Something interesting?" As a throwback to yesteryear, she wore a royal blue, scrub dress paired with a red cape and matching beret. "I have to go on rounds soon." A pig-tailed toddler clung to her hip.

He motioned for her to join him at his desk, still muffling his laugh. At the office, this particular physician kept it corporate casual under his white lab coat. The name badge was fancy, but he still insisted on first name basis. 'Dr. Luis' was proudly displayed in black lettering on his lapel. "Harmony, baby, this is _gold_. I love my job."

She sniffed and reached for the portfolio with her free hand. Soon, her laughter met his. "Oh, that's glorious. I'll start the betting pool of who has the longer labor."

"I will take that bet, sweetheart." With a grin, he reached for the chunky little human with his eyes and her nose. "And you get to help daddy sort through his desk while mommy sees her patients."

"District nursing makes me want to ride a bike. Yeah, I want a bike like the old days."

"The cape looks good on you."

"I know, right? I never got one when I worked the emergency department."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** As much as I love fun-filled antics and romantic escapades, I think it's time I throw my favourite pairings a curveball. Now if you'll excuse me, I have body parts to label. *heads to the deep freezer*


	2. Chapter 2

_Mystic: What gives you any idea that I've binge-watched Call the Midwife? I have no idea what you're talking about. *sips tea* Updates won't be that frequent, unfortunately, as my summer semester is going to kick my ass. I'll be around, but Microbiology and Psychology have me tied and whipped right now._

* * *

 **First Trimester**

* * *

Luis M.D. looked pointedly at his old fraternity brother; pointedly like a dull pencil a frat boy would use to randomly draw boobs on his chemistry textbooks. The fact that both physician and commissioner held a 4.0 average in grad school despite drunken fornication was a question for future historians. But the pointed glare came with a smirk and a congratulatory smack on the back. It may be appropriate to rub a woman's growing stomach (actually, no, it's not), but no one thought it a good idea to rub a man's testicles and say, "well done!"

(Honestly, hands off the stomach unless she gives consent. Ask first, it's good manners.)

So after the more appropriate smack on the back, Luis turned to the couple in his office. "So, what questions do you have?"

"Do I really have to give up my lattes?" Yuffie blurted out. "I need it so I don't commit felonies!"

Luis smiled. "One small serving is okay, but I wouldn't go beyond that."

"Really? I can have my latte in the morning?"

"Yes, that's fine."

"YAAAAAAY!"

Despite that Yuffie Kisaragi, White (coughyeahrightcough) Rose of Wutai, Ninja Spy of Awesome-ness, was now in her twenties, she did not always act like a young adult attempting to figure out life and what it meant to be a young adult. She took everything at face value, sometimes literally took it, and appreciated all the shiny things in life. If circumstances required a polishing, that was okay. It made life extra shiny in the end.

"There's a prenatal clinic hosted by the obstetric nurses at Edge Good Samaritan," Luis continued. "I can place you on their roster for care."

Yuffie looked at Reeve, then nodded. "Okay."

Reeve looked at the myriad of pamphlets Luis had placed before them. They had such interesting titles like, "Breast and/Bottle: You Decide!" or "Protein and Sugar in Your Urine. What You Need to Know." He wished his mother was still alive so he could call her, ask questions, and apologize for what he did to her body. "What time is the clinic?"

"Tuesdays from nine to four-thirty. If for whatever reason Yuffie can't make it, call them at this number and they'll send a district nurse to examine her." Luis pushed yet another piece of paper in front of them.

Yuffie giggled. "You mean I might see your baby mama? Awesome!"

"That's only if you can't make it to clinic, but yes."

"Oh, can I still get laid? Reeve is awesome, and I don't want to let that go."

Reeve looked up from the Breast/Bottle pamphlet, eyes furled. "Darling, there are other more important matters at hand." To piss her off, he called her 'darling'. It reinforced the stereotype of older gentleman having a clandestine affair with a young foreign woman. Like all other times, she smacked him on the arm.

"Nothing is more important than getting laid!"

"Your father wants a conference, and I'd rather keep life and limb."

"Over my bomb-ass pussy? The hell?"

Luis leaned back, tapped his pencil on his desk. He pondered if Harmony's idea to one day write a book of all his patient interactions might prove a financial success and good idea. He'd have to change details around to protect patient confidentiality, but a working title was already floating in his head. 'Patients Say the Darndest Thing' or 'Remarks from the Other Side of the Bedrail' or 'Life, Limb, and Bomb-Ass Pussy: Lessons from a Family Physician'. All of them held remarkable potential.

"So, can I still bang or not?"

Luis nodded. "You'll be fine, but I'd avoid the BDSM until after the birth."

She pouted, but accepted her vanilla fate. "Fine, okay."

The commissioner breathed. Despite keeping an air of professional maturity, Luis couldn't help but notice his friend looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a mack truck that lost its brakes. It'd make another good story for his potential tell-all.

* * *

Denzel hopped in the front seat of his _not_ stepdad's car. Reno was just the cool guy dating the woman who fed him, clothed him, and raised him as her own. Yes, Reno picked him up from school, helped him with English homework (not maths), and even gave him THE TALK, but Reno was not a step-father. "Hi, Reno."

"Hey, did you have a good day?"

"That's not how school works." His remark came with a smirk.

"Not even English?"

Though the WRO made massive improvements to the education system, Tifa hesitated to place Denzel in the government-run public school. As a young orphan, Denzel lived with Reeve's mother, a vibrant hippie who believed children should learn through life experiences that didn't involve a desk. She taught him his ABCs and 123s herself through playtime and good storytelling. She instructed the boy in basic arithmetic and recitation. Consequently Denzel read and learned at a remarkable rate. To continue the self-learning and child-led education, Tifa forked over the extra gil and enrolled him in a private, Charlotte Mason School.

So. Much. Gil.

"We're studying medicine in History class," the lad said with a shrug. "We're reading 'Notify the Nurse' by Flora Cardinal and creating a Book of Centuries comparing physicians, nurses, and midwives through historical eras."

Reno snorted, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main highway. "So ... the history of medicine, basically."

"Yep."

"Oh, kid. You just made the next conversation so much easier."

* * *

"Yuffie Kisaragi!"

A flurry of people - pregnant women, men who had no idea what to do, and nurses in royal blue scrubs - busied themselves in the administration building of the local hospital. Folding screens created makeshift patient rooms for private examinations, and every nurse held an electronic tablet. A physician in a lab coat oversaw the organized chaos, handing out prescriptions and advising the expectant mothers. An autoclave hummed in the back, amid the chit-chatter of adults and cries of newborns.

The ninja took a deep breath and walked over to the smiling nurse. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Right this way, ma'am," she directed. "Second stall."

It started fairly routine. Yuffie already urinated in a plastic cup upon arrival; the nurse checked her height and weight, then listened to her heart-rate and checked her blood pressure. "Hm," the nurse miffed.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Your BP is up a little. Is it normally elevated?"

Yuffie shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, I work as a spy so ..."

"It could be nothing to worry about. We expect the blood pressure to rise a little because of all the extra fluid in your body, but it's something we don't want to get out of hand. Did you give a urine sample?" The nurse looked at her electronic chart. "Oh, good; you did. No protein solids. Let's see your ankles."

"Uh..." Yuffie stretched out on the slab, feeling as if she got the wrong end of a masseuse's happy ending. "I feel fine, if that helps."

The nurse miffed again. "Be sure to come back next week. We may need to watch you more closely."

Outside her private stall, another nurse called out, "Tifa Lockheart!"

"Oh, shit! No way!"

"Ms. Kisaragi!"

Not even a nurse in uniform could restrain an excited shinobi. Yuffie bolted from her awkward ankle massage and cornered a bartender with known fists of fury. "Hahahaha! You let Reno knock you up?"

In the corner, along with all of the other men, Reeve sighed, facepalmed. Reno sat beside him, smirked; the two already shook hands in companionship and planned an evening where they would share whiskey and cigars. And then, in the grand ritual of all expectant fathers, they would complain about their women and woes. The men would ponder why a woman would crave raspberries in the dead of winter, or pair sour pickles with sweet chocolate ice cream. Reno already was in trouble because of something he did in Tifa's dream while she napped.

"I knew full well what I was getting into by courting Reno," Tifa answered.

In his corner, Reno snorted.

"Ms. Kisaragi ..." the nurse called.

"Betcha my baby's cuter."

Tifa said, "And I bet I make more milk than you."

"BUUUURRRRRN!" Shouted Reno from his corner.

Reeve remembered he kept a flask in his coat pocket.

* * *

Far from the usual fare of pickles and ice cream, Tifa loved the idea of leftover fried beer batter. Mountain-folk called them 'hush-puppies', a glorious round ball of flour, beer, and specific seasonings kept secret by the family matriarch. It was high in calories and high in flavor. A few made a snack, and several made a light meal. The fish she could do without, but a glob of poke salat next to the hush-puppies? Her stomach growled and her lips smiled just thinking about it. "Reno, you know that fish market next to the funeral home?"

Edge's civil design was ... unique. "Oh, yeah! The fishmonger used to run the crematory."

"I think he still does part-time."

The couple's drive home - so far - had been without motion sickness. Reno felt immense relief. "You want to pick up something for supper?"

"Hush-puppies," she said. "I want to fry them so hard and cover them in ketchup."

"You're such a dirty girl. I like how you think."

Reno was the type of man who giggled when an attractive woman ate a hot dog or a banana, but he stopped giggling and begged for attention when that same woman successfully tied a knot in a cherry stem. (Tifa easily knew how to make him stop giggling.) "And poke salat. With hot sauce. And a hard-boiled egg," she added.

"Oh, baby; you are awakening the sexy hillbilly in me." He attempted a mountain-grown accent. He failed.

Tifa, though, Nibelheim born and bred, reverted back to a gentle twang with little effort. "Well, honey, if you would go pick me a mess of greens and some eaters, I'll fry you a batch. You better read your plate first."

"...wha?"

"Say grace."

"Ohhhhhh."

She teased again. "If y'all be kind to me, I'll bake ya some heavy bread."

"Huh? Speak English."

"Why, I am sugar lump."

"Okay. No."

"City slicker." One day, she vowed, she would find some persimmons and force it down his throat. The green fruit might look ripe and ready to eat, but woe to the individual who popped them in their mouth. The tartness of persimmons gave a street prostitute a run for her back-breaking gil. "Keep that up and I won't make you my dippy anymore."

She could almost see the question mark over his head. "That sounds sexy?"

"It's gravy."

"Gravy can be sexy."

White gravy maybe, with chunks of sausage in it, and the whole glop dropped over fluffy biscuits. Her stomach growled in anticipation. This pregnancy was going to be awesome for her taste buds, but her waistline might hate her later for it. Still, that's what breastfeeding was for. Her unborn would grow up with a healthy appreciation for dark greens cooked in pork fat, fried seafood, and tangy barbecue falling off the bone. Where Tifa came from, macaroni and cheese was considered a vegetable.

"Are we there yet? I am really hungry."

Reno chuckled and rubbed her abdomen. It begins.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Who likes bluegrass? Show of hands! I've never delved into Tifa's background before. Luckily she grew up in a mountain town, and of that, I have experience. *cough* Let's pretend it's Appalachia.**


End file.
